Wind Voices
by Alinah
Summary: [Complete] When Elladan takes Estel on a journey to visit the ancient tower of Amon Sûl, neither of the brothers anticipates the evil presence that awaits them in the dark...


Hi all!

Here´s my entry to the latest Teitho contest - the task was to write a scary story in a Middle Earth setting. Even though this turned out very different from what I had in mind it was voted into the first spot - thanks to all voters and of course to San for her editing.

I hope you enjoy - please leave a review, they are always appreciated.

Alina

Rating: PG 13

Disclaimer: No, they do not belong to me 

Author´s note: I took the liberty of using Peter Jackson´s version of Weathertop for this story – it just suited it so well ;-) This story is AU in some ways.

**Wind Voices**

_The man ran._

_His breath came in frantic pants that threatened to burst his aching chest._

_Muddy feet slipped and slithered on the treacherous grounds that wavered beneath his weight, ready to betray him completely when he would expect it the least._

_There was no escape from them. They crept into every crook of the rocks, slipped through each and every crack and had even penetrated the thick walls of his home as effortlessly as if they were a mere drift of fog._

_How do you flee a sounds that comes from inside of your own head? How do you drown the cries of those who have passed into the next world in anger? How do you escape the whispered accusations of the souls whom you failed to save? How do you outrun the Wind-Voices once they have caught your scent?_

_The man felt hot tears of fear on his cheeks and a whimper crept from his throat. Shame burned within him for his weakness. He had been a warrior once, a fearful sight to behold when he charged into battle with his sword raised high. _

_Yet then he had still stood a chance. He had known what to do, how to protect his own life at the expense of others._

_Now there was no haven to turn to when the voices grew more persistent. The sounds seemed to carry with them a halo of darkness that grew so dense it became solid. _

_The man felt his heartbeat in his throat. He knew that one should never turn to look when running from the enemy. Yet he could not help but notice that the whispered voices had become more than sound. He could clearly see his own shadow flickering along the fog that heaved and slithered atop the muddy ground. But it was no longer alone._

_His grey twin had been joined by the shade-bodies of the voices that haunted him. They ran behind him, willowy arms outstretched as if they could make him fall by tripping his shadow. The pale moon seemed to grin as the flickering hunters of the man multiplied by the second._

_The man´s head turned further, finding that none could be seen at his back, and yet his shadow was now only a hand´s breadth from the dark claws that extended impossibly towards it. His blood froze when he felt skeletal fingers close around his elbow, a bony chuckle gracing his ear…_

"Look! There is the tower!"

Elladan was taken aback by Estel´s sudden interruption of his tale and looked up to see that the boy was right. He had been so lost in his story that he had not realized that dusk had fallen and their destination for this day had grown near.

The elf glanced at the young human beside him and the ghost of a mischievous grin danced upon his fair features.

"Do I hear relief in your voice, my brother? I have not scared you with a mere tale of the Dead Marshes, have I?"

Estel´s grey eyes flashed when he turned them upon Lord Elrond´s oldest son. "Of course you did not! I have heard this tale in the Hall of Fire many times. Glorfindel is very fond of telling it, and mind you, his details are far scarier than what you came up with."

Elladan chuckled, not offended in the least. "Ah yes, Glorfindel´s stories can turn the cosy warmth of the fire into an icy breath and the hand of your friend on your shoulder into a wraith´s claw. And yet, I see in your eyes that you would prefer to have both a fire and a friend at your side right now."

The human joined Elladan´s laughter and shrugged as he trudged on. "Oh aye, " he agreed, "and who would not after walking through autumn´s chill with no-one for company but a brother who possesses the mind of a wolf on the hunt and the tongue of a poisonous viper? Ada would scold you for telling me scary stories instead of reminding me of the history of the place we will visit."

The elf´s face turned thoughtful at that and his eyes narrowed when they focused on the uneven ring of stones that rose before them in the gloom. It was clearly visible despite the evening fog that began to creep from the ground, having been built on a hill that added to its elevation.

"Who says that the Wind-Voices are not connected to this place, Estel? Can you not translate its name?"

Estel stopped in his tracks so suddenly that Elladan almost walked straight into him. "Amon Sûl," the young man said in a low voice, "the hill of wind." He drew his cloak more closely around himself, throwing the elf an unconvinced look. "I always thought it was named for the weather conditions and not for the presence of ghosts."

"Aye, and most men seem to agree, or they would not have called this hill Weathertop," Elladan nodded, gently urging the young man on. Even though they were near, he preferred to have reached the tower before complete darkness fell.

"Evil things have transpired here, Estel," he went on, "and many will say that violent deaths and greedy struggles do leave an imprint behind. Sometimes it will fade and lie dormant for ages, but when someone comes who will truly look and see with his heart, they re-appear."

"But this was so long ago!" the young man replied, "Ada told me that the tower was built in the second age by the great Elendil himself before it was burned down by the combined forces of Rhudaur and Angmar many years later."

Elladan smiled at Estel´s shining adoration for Elendil, still blissfully unaware that he indeed carried the same blood as the great king of men. He watched the boy as he walked along ahead of him. Ah, how time raced when a human was there to mark its passing! Only a few winters ago Estel had been a playful child and now he was approached his seventeenth year and tried to cope with the body of a man.

The older twin was thankful for this opportunity to travel with his human brother. Elrohir had left for an errant that would bring him home from the Misty Mountains just before the first snow in the valley. As much as Elladan loved his twin he cherished this rare chance to have Estel´s company all to himself. All too soon life would take them on separate paths.

"I see that you did not sleep through all of Erestor´s lessons," the elf remarked, "I shall make sure to tell him so."

"Why would I sleep through a tale that has both Elendil and a Palantir in it?" Estel questioned. "Those stories I always loved the most."

"These are not mere tales, brother," Elladan chided gently, "they are much more than that."

He did not continue for he could see that Estel was not listening but staring at the outline of the tower´s ruins, his eyes glazed by a far-away look that made him appear a child again. No doubt he imagined Elendil in shining armour standing atop a graceful tower, his coat fluttering in the wind like it always would for a true hero.

Elladan decided to leave his brother to his day-dreams and instead scanned their surroundings. The fog looked unnaturally bright as it rose and swam about them, swallowing their feet in a gentle but persistent flood. The wet smells of autumn were intensified by the moisture. Far away a wolf howled.

The elf felt the skin at the back of his neck prickle. The sensation travelled down his spine with nagging insistence, yet try as he might he could not locate its source. By the Valar, it was a blessing that Elrohir was not here to witness this, for he would have been unable to hide his unease from his twin.

He shook his head, forcing himself to relax. It would absolutely not do to be unnerved by his own spooky tales.

xxx

When the two brothers finally reached the foot of the hill, night was upon them. Even so, the moon cast an eerie light that seeped into the fog, making it glow. A strong wind blew that had been absent until they had closed in on the ruins, and it chased the clouds across the skies like a hungry wolf would hunt a flock of sheep. The moonlight flickered when the glowing disk was obscured by shadows time and again, yet the fog steadily kept its unnatural shine.

Estel seemed oblivious to the lingering nervousness that had taken hold of the elf at his side. The young man´s eyes were bright when he turned to his brother.

"Is it true that the remaining statues follow you with their eyes when you pass them?" he asked excitedly. "Let us go and look at them!"

"Nay, Estel," Elladan replied with a shake of his head, leading the human around towards the northwest slope of the hill. "There will be enough time to explore the ruins tomorrow. Let us seek out the cave that lies within the hill and camp there for the night."

The young man valiantly fought the pout that threatened to form on his lips and he swallowed his disagreement. He could clearly see the steps that led up to the ruins as they passed them, but Elladan paid them no heed. Estel was more than aware that one of the virtues Lord Elrond and his sons were still attempting to teach him was patience. If he insisted on having his will now he would not put it beyond his brother to take him on a "hunt" in the morning and delay his visit for one more day.

The small cave was quickly found and it was not long before a merry fire burned within the old ring of stones that was obviously meant for this purpose.

Having been denied a night-time exploration of the ruins, Estel examined the stone walls around them while Elladan heated some water to make tea. The night was growing cold and he wanted his brother to come home healthy.

"It does not seem like many wanderers are using this cave," the human said with barely hid disappointment, "and neither are there any traces of the tower´s great history."

"Hunters are known to seek shelter here," Elladan replied, "but only when their need is dire. Time might have washed away all visible traces of the evil that once lingered in this place, but it lives on in men´s legends nonetheless. The old stories keep them away still." The elf´s voice was steady - but his heart trembled at the memory of a dying ranger he had held in his arms so many years ago.

_"The watcher!" Fever-burned eyes glowed at Elladan, heated even more by intense fear. "It will take your soul and leave your body a shell…"_

Estel returned to the fire and accepted a steaming cup of tea from Elladan, looking at the elf expectantly. When no further explanation was forthcoming, he prodded: "And you would not happen to know these tales? I do not recall having heard any in the Halls of Fire." He took a good bite of the bread he was offered and grinned at the elf while he chewed. "You might even manage to truly scare me this time, now that I do not have Glorfindel´s stories as comparison."

Elladan simply shook his head. There were tales he would rather keep to himself. He had turned from his human brother and still his eyes remained on the windswept landscape outside. The fog did not move in the gusts. It had risen even higher, surely covering them to the waist should they venture to the lower grounds now. The tingling in his spine had not subsided.

Making a swift decision, the elf rose to his feet.

"I will make sure that none have followed us," he said, not bothering to explain who or what might have done so, "you will remain here and stay on your guard. I shall return shortly."

The lithe form of the elf had already reached the foot of the hill, half swallowed in the fog, before Estel had even recovered enough to open his mouth for the questions he burned to ask. Shutting his mouth with a snap, the human glowered at his brother´s retreating back. If there was one thing he despised about elves it was their secrecy in certain matters.

xxx

Estel placed his sword at his side and settled at the cave´s mouth, gazing outside. Unnerved as he might be, he would not take his brother´s sudden restlessness lightly. He watched Elladan as he slowly waded through the fog, his long black hair dancing in the wind. He left a swirl in the white mist where he had gone. Suddenly the elf tensed, gazing sharply towards the right, and then he slowly walked into that direction, his head held at an angle as if listening to the wind itself.

The young man grew slightly nervous when he realized that he would soon lose sight of his brother. His right hand sought out his sword and his fingers closed around the hilt. Reassured by the comfort of the leather-clad wood beneath his touch, he calmly watched the elf for as long as he could. Then there was nothing left but Elladan´s fading trail in the fog, already closing behind him.

xxx

There were voices. They were faint, mere shadows of sound that danced upon the wind. Yet they were there nonetheless.

Elladan carefully followed them, his head slightly tilted as he tried to discern what direction to take. The voices were human, of that he had no doubt. There was a roughness about them that no elf would ever have. He strained as he made out words emerging from the wind.

Nay, he could not make them out, not yet. He felt them beneath the senselessness of the distant mumbling and he was drawn by their urgency to be heard clearly. They were meant to be heard. They _needed_ to be heard, or else their words would lose their purpose and drift upon the wind for eternity.

The gusts picked up and whipped his dark hair across his face, briefly impairing his vision. Elladan angrily caught the strands and struggled to tug them beneath his coat´s hood when he realized that this time the fog had reacted to the breeze.

Whips of darkness were rising from the wavering sea. All around him dim figures formed, writhing and bowing as if they meant to take human shape but had forgotten how to do so. The malformed heads that arose showed no features that would have discerned them or even helped to recognize their gender, but they all possessed a mouth. They were opened wide, the night´s darkness shining from within, and as they swayed around the still elf like a cove of trees in a storm, their voices finally gained strength, only to form a wordless wail of misery.

xxx

A wail rose from the darkness. The sound rippled along the fog by the sheer force of its painful misery and Estel was on his feet before he had even realized that his heart was suddenly racing like a panicked horse.

"Who is there?" he demanded with an anger that hid his fear. "Who is there, I said?"

He was answered by sudden silence. Even the winds had died down, but only to take a breath. With a sudden howl they rose once more, screeching along the rough stones of the tower like a beast searching for an entrance.

Estel remained on his feet, his muscles tight and his sword at the ready. Could he really have been fooled by a mere trick of the wind? Had Elladan´s story and his sudden absence caused so much uncertainty in him that he now jumped at nothing but the sound of a storm?

A thought formed within him; a thought that both angered him and etched a wry grin onto his face.

"Oh no, brother, you won´t", he mumbled. "You will not come home to father with a story of little Estel afraid in the dark!" Why had he not considered this earlier? Elladan´s tale of the Wind-Voices, his reluctance to explore the tower – it all added up to a ruse worthy of an Imladris twin. He had fallen victim to his foster brothers´ pranks so many times that he was determined not to do so again.

"I know about fear," Estel told himself firmly, "and you, Elladan, should be aware of that!" The young man took a torch from his pack and held it into the fire, smiling tensely when it burst into flaming life.

"You have told me so yourself, you silly elf," he continued quietly as he left the cave, searching for the set of stairs he had seen before they made camp. "You have told me that we only fear what we do not know. I do not know this tower and now you want to scare me. Pah!"

Gripping the torch more tightly with his left hand, his sword still firmly held in his right, the young man began to ascend the stairs. The winds still screeched around the tower, yet the flame that lit his path burned steadily, keeping him safe on the crumbling steps.

Estel was so intent on uncovering his brother´s ruse that he failed to notice.

xxx

Elladan watched as the human figures writhed around him, moaning and whimpering as the fog licked at their shadowy frames. They seemed like poor souls trapped in a vicious fire, helplessly suffering while the greedy flames consumed their flesh.

Yet all that was there were wind and fog.

"Who are you?" the elf asked calmly. "What is the message you wish to convey?"

Silence.

It came so sudden that Elladan heard the blood racing through his ears.

The shadowy figures had grown still, some frozen in grotesquely twisted images of torment. Yet the black mouths were open and with a fresh screech of wind words poured forth, a chorus of Wind-Voices that spoke as one.

"The watcher," they groaned, "it has awoken! Beware the watcher. Beware. Beware!"

A sudden burst of movement made Elladan reach for his sword, but it was too late. A swirling mass of dark shapes enclosed him. Their touches grew cold as strengthening fingers, skeletal and cruel, closed around his wrists. They wove into his hair, grabbed his cloak, clawed at his boots.

"Immortal," the Wind-Voices moaned, "ai, an immortal has come in the end…"

xxx

Estel felt his heartbeat in his throat when he climbed the last steps and finally entered the flat floor of what had once been the great tower of Amon Sûl. Statues lined the circle, their faces strangely alive in the unsteady light of the moon.

A chill crept into the young man´s heart but he ignored it, unwilling to be bested by so useless a fear.

"I am here now," he said, sure that Elladan would linger somewhere in the shadows, watching him. "There is nothing to fear but a storm and the musty taste of History."

The only answer that was forthcoming was the renewed cry of the wind – a wind that seemed to carry voices with it…

Estel shook his head and firmly stepped closer to one of the statues, studying its solemn face. There was sadness in the still features, and the young man felt as if he could hear Erestor´s deep voice, comforting in its steadfast explanation.

"Once the great tower of Amon Sûl held one of the Palantir – a watching-stone of great power. Useful it was for the mind that sought to give and take information, but dangerous too. All things that hold power bring with them an equal amount of danger. Do not forget that, Estel…"

Movement.

Estel had only caught it from the corner of his eyes but it had been there nonetheless and he could not stop himself from swirling around to face it. Instinctively, he had brought his sword up before him while he watched anxiously, his heart racing once more.

"Who is there?" he asked yet again. "I am not afraid, you can show yourself!"

There it was.

A shadow leaning to one of the statues.

It stood perfectly still, as if it had been there all along and it had been Estel´s fault not to see it earlier.

Yet even though it was clearly visible now it seemed strangely shapeless, like an image thrown onto a wall by a flickering fire. The moon broke through the clouds above them and Estel squinted, trying to make out the familiar frame of his brother, and as he did so, he thought to see long black hair flowing gently with the momentary calm breeze.

"Elladan?" Estel took one hesitant step forwards, struggling to see the familiar features in the shadow that lay across the quiet face, made all the more deep by the suddenly bright moonlight. "It is time to end this game, you silly elf…"

The figure pushed itself away from the statue, white teeth showing in what might have been a smile, and then sudden darkness fell once more as a cloud rushed before the moon, obscuring its bright beams.

Estel held his breath, desperately wishing for the light to return. His ears picked out steps that crossed the floor towards him, crunching on the stones, and he backed away slowly, his sword raised before him once more in a defensive gesture. The steps became lighter, as if the shadow suddenly lost some substance. A melodious chuckle arose.

"Elladan?" Estel asked again, "is that you?"

"Of course."

The answer came from behind his back and Estel swirled around just when the wind chased the clouds from the moon, allowing its light to flow freely once more.

Elladan smiled, his green eyes bright. One hand had effortlessly caught the human´s wrist when Estel instinctively swung his sword around. The strong fingers were cold on the boy´s skin and he flinched, pulling away.

"What is this, human? Do you mean to kill me?" Elladan´s eyebrow rose mockingly.

"I just might!" Estel replied with a grumble. "I am sure ada would not approve of your behaviour! You were supposed to teach me, not scare me…"

The young man snapped his mouth shut, wishing to swallow his last words back but it was too late. Glaring at the elf, he awaited the taunt that would be sure to follow his unwilling confession but it never came.

Instead, Elladan turned his back to him and gazed about the tower´s ruins as if in wonder. Estel was surprised at his brother´s uncharacteristic slip of mind, missing such a golden opportunity. He was eager to keep the elf´s mind occupied to completely erase his mistake.

"One could think you had never been here," the human remarked, "you stare at these statues like they are new to you."

"No, not new," Elladan remarked, "but it has been so long – far too long. I should have been back many winters ago, for I can feel that my master grows stronger."

Estel frowned and then shook his head silently. Obviously his brother was not through with his games.

"I am sure Master Elrond will be happy to hear that," the young man returned, "your father needs all his strengths with a son like you!"

"Master Elrond…" There was deep satisfaction in the elf´s voice. "Aye, there is strength here indeed. Finally there is strength enough for the upcoming struggle. The tower shall be renewed at last, its power restored."

Estel felt cold all of a sudden. This was not Elladan telling him an eerie tale. This was Elladan acting eerily, and he was beginning to loathe it. He was no longer a child to be toyed with for an elf´s amusement!

"I highly doubt that there is any use for you to build this thing up again," Estel said icily, "for if I remember Erestor´s lessons correctly, the seeing-stone is long lost and with it the use of this place. It is nothing more than a ruin."

Elladan swirled around so quickly that Estel took a few steps backwards, suddenly scared. There was a fierce fire in his brother´s eyes that he had never seen before as the elf hissed, "Do not mock this tower! It is not your place, human!"

Estel went farther backwards still until his back made contact with one of the statues and he stopped, breathing heavily. Words formed on his lips, angry questions as well as calm reasoning. This was a tower built by a human king – why should he not claim the right to speak about it?

Yet he did not speak.

He stood, frozen in place by a fear that had nothing to do with the storm that still howled around them, though strangely subdued, or the coldness of night. It was a coldness of heart that he felt, a sense of both danger and loss that should not be there in the presence of his foster brother…

_"Estel."_

A word, barely recognizable, touched his soul. It was carried on the wind´s wings, effortlessly yet gone before he could truly grasp it.

The young man turned and gazed down from the hill to the fog-covered landscape below. He strained his ears to catch the sound again, for, as fleeting as it had been, there had been true concern in it.

"Estel."

The young man flinched when he found Elladan suddenly mere inches in front of him. The strange fire had retreated from his face that now wore an expression of concern.

"I am sorry, Estel. I did not mean to frighten you."

The elf closed his hand around the young man´s arm and gently yet firmly pulled him away from the statue. "Please Estel, do not listen to the wind! It is dangerous, in this place more than in others."

The human gazed up at the elf, searching his face. There was concern there, a deep nervousness that left lines on the smooth face.

"What is going on here?" he asked slowly. "Tell me, Elladan."

"Estel, please trust me. You know that many of your race have died in this place. On this very day so many ages ago, human souls were lost and scattered about the flaming ruins of this tower. They have returned to ensnare you. Do not listen to the Wind-Voices."

_"Estel, please…"_

It was there again, closer this time. Desperate.

Turning back to Elladan, the young man slowly withdrew his arm from his brother´s cold grasp. "But why should I hear those voices?" he questioned. "I thought they only spoke to those whom they hope to be their saviour – or to their tormentor."

The wind picked up again, howling sharply, and Elladan flinched. His hands went up as if he meant to cover his ears and he barely caught himself, and expression of intense pain on his features. His eyes fluttered closed. "They grow louder," he groaned, "they are insistent. I need to be complete…"

Estel withdrew slowly, his heart racing. The elf seemed too distracted to notice his movement and when he reached the statue, he held on to it and gazed into the night once more. He tried to see, to truly see this time.

He had to see.

Shapes.

They twisted in the fog. They were all around the tower, so many of them that they looked like a grey sea that struggled to emerge from the white one that held them captive. Heads would arise, black mouths open in agony, only to sink back below the shining surface. Hands clawed the air as if searching for something to hold onto, helpless and lost.

And amongst the flood, amongst all the faces that were not recognizable, there was Elladan.

He struggled to move closer to Estel, surrounded by clinging white mist and writhing dark shapes. His face was clearly visible in the flickering moonlight and his raven hair whipped around his head in the wind. Yet there was a transparent quality to him that allowed the mist to shine through him like a candle through glass.

_"Estel. Please…"_

It was little more than a whisper. The strong voice that should have easily carried across the short distance between them was almost lost in the sea of the storm.

"What?" Estel called back in despair, "please what?"

"Please help me." This time the voice was close, accompanied by cold breath that trickled along the young man´s cheek. There was a snicker beneath the elf's plead and strong hands turned the human around, pressing him against the cold stone of the statue.

Fierce green eyes bore into Estel´s , piercing his very soul. "Help me remember who I am and I shall be immortal!" The creature that looked like Elladan leaned closer, his face almost touching Estel´s. The aura of dark cold was breathtaking.

The young man struggled and tried to avoid the piercing gaze, but he was lost to its strength.

Unbidden, images rose from his memory.

Images of himself as a little boy, playing with his foster brothers in the sun-bathed gardens.

Images of Elladan, covered in blood, riding through the gates with his motionless twin in his arms.

Images of Lord Elrond, standing in his study and hugging his oldest son with tears in his eyes.

The cold grip warmed slightly, and a hoarse voice whispered: "More, give me more…"

The wind screeched about the tower, fury and fear travelling on its wings as well as despair.

_"No, Estel, please!"_

So close!

With a sudden jerk, Estel managed to move his head to the side and caught a glimpse of Elladan´s fading shape a mere arm´s lengths away from him, outside the circle of stones. His features were melting, fading into a nameless mass of grey as he spoke, but his eyes were still bright and they gazed at the young human imploringly.

One hand had stretched out for his human brother to take.

Before Estel could react, his chin was grabbed and sharply turned to face his greatest horror once more. He attempted to close his eyes but it was no use, and he groaned in despair when images of Legolas flickered across his soul as the wood-elf greeted the twins.

"Yes, "the voice whispered, "give me more…"

The young man ceased to fight for the freedom of his head. He allowed the thoughts to flow, all those memories that completed the picture of Elladan as Estel knew him.

Yet at the same time, the human reached out with his hand. He did so blindly, praying for the Valar to guide him. His fingers stretched and searched, inviting that transparent hand to take hold of them and use them as an anchor and a guide.

An icy clasp closed around his wrist.

Estel´s eyes flew open, all memories suddenly chased away by the freezing agony that shot up his arm, and then he was flung aside like a useless doll.

The human felt his back scrape against the pebbles that covered the ground and heaved a painful breath when he finally came to a halt against a statue at the other side of the ruins. His eyes, however, never left the sight before him.

The elves stood facing each other, one shrouded in a halo of darkness, the other as insubstantial as the fog that now lingered just outside the tower. Estel could make out the writhing dark shapes closing in, like an audience of shadows eager to witness what would transpire.

"You are too late, son of Elrond." The dark elf spoke calmly, foul laughter hiding just beneath the surface of his voice. "And I must thank you, for your immortal shell will cease my endless strive for renewal." He gestured towards the twisting shapes around them with a dismissive wave of the hand. "Many of those flawed souls have fallen prey to me before, yet they are so fragile. So mortal. You have given me an eternity to serve the Dark Lord."

"The Dark Lord could not care less about you." Even though Elladan´s body was no more than a lingering memory, his voice was strong now that he had entered the tower. "You have become useless, Watcher. Why else would the string of hosts you needed for your foul existence have broken? You are a lost spirit eager to protect a ruin, nothing more."

An angry hiss escaped the dark elf and he closed in on his shimmering mirror-image with a snarl. "You are welcome to watch my rise to new power, elf," he ground out, "for I am now you. That senseless human has delivered all of you to me."

"No, he has not."

Elladan´s voice was calm.

"He could not. He knows me as the brother, as the protector, as the teacher and friend."

The elf drew his sword, as transparent and shining as its owner.

"He does not know me as the killer."

The light elf´s features darkened suddenly, as if Elladan willingly invited a black veil to fall across his soul. His sword came down in a deadly arch, slicing through the image that was so much like himself and yet much more his opposite.

The dark shape attempted to fight back, his own sword suddenly in his hands and thrusting at his opponent, yet it had reacted too late. One stroke had been enough.

The wind´s voices rose into a screech and suddenly it gushed into the ruins, flinging both elven forms onto the ground. Estel clung to the statue as the storm grew even fiercer. It sliced into the dark elf, collecting around him until his screams drowned even the storm´s roar. With one last shout of defiance, the back shape exploded into a cloud of darkness that was ripped away by the winds, sweeping past Estel and finally flinging him into the void of oblivion.

xxx

"I am sorry."

Elladan looked down on his brother with regret and guilt in his eyes. "I should not have left you alone. I should have sensed the graveness of the danger. A dying ranger once told me the tale of the Watcher but I paid it too little heed, having been there many times undisturbed."

Estel groaned, closing his eyes as the sun´s weak rays burned into his headache. Ever since he had awakened in a makeshift camp well out of sight of Amon Sûl, he had felt like the victim of a vicious brawl.

Strangely enough, he was a relieved victim. A victim happy to have survived.

"Aye," he groaned his agreement, "and you should have looked into the history books to find out that we would arrive here at the exact anniversary of the great battle."

He flung his arm across his eyes as some light managed to seep through his closed eyelids. "Even better still, you should have been there at the battle. You should have stopped Sauron from ever placing that creature in the tower. Or you could have prevented the creation of Sauron in the first place to save this world a lot of trouble…"

"Estel!" There was reproach in the elf´s voice but also the hint of a smile. "You are being silly."

"No more than you, brother," Estel replied and allowed himself a brief chuckle, relieved when he heard the elf join in. What had been left of the darkness around the two brothers lifted at the sound and drifted away, blown away by a gentle breeze.

xxx

Not far from the two brothers the winds picked up again, groaning and whining in an everlasting song as they caressed the stones of the ruins also known as Weathertop.

No clinging fog nestled at the foot of the hill. No dark shapes stirred in the shadows of the withered rocks.

And yet, deep down in the very foundations of the hill, a spirit slumbered, ready to be awakened by wanderers who would pass by on the right night of the year, ready to be sacrificed.

**The end**


End file.
